Purple Twirls™http://purpletwirls.com/blog
Where a step turns into a purple twirlSat, 05 Aug 2017 19:48:24 +0000en-UShourly1http://wordpress.org/?v=3.9.22This Music Is Minehttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/this-music-is-mine
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/this-music-is-mine#commentsSat, 05 Aug 2017 14:30:26 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=5219“Neil, you are going to be late for your soccer practice!” Neil heard his mother’s voice over the music that was playing in his room. He knew from her tone that it was probably a good idea to switch the … Continue reading →

]]>“Neil, you are going to be late for your soccer practice!” Neil heard his mother’s voice over the music that was playing in his room. He knew from her tone that it was probably a good idea to switch the music off. He did that and reluctantly stepped out.

The soccer field was filled with activity and the practice went on as usual. Neil followed the coach’s instructions but a corner of his mind was repeating the musical notes he had heard in the morning. He could not wait to be somewhere else.

He came back home exhausted from the practice. “Mom, I don’t feel like eating. Can I go to my room?” he asked. He could see his mother’s exasperated face but he was so tired of these practices. He was tired of all those classes and his school. “Neil, you have so much potential. You are one of the brightest students here. Only if you paid attention,” he had often heard his teachers say. He ran to his room, threw himself on the bed and turned the music on.

As his favorite Star Wars theme blasted in the room, the ceiling came ablaze with a bright orange color. The room was flooded with a yellowish hue. Neil’s eyes widened. He quickly extended his hand and turned the music off. The ceiling went back to its usual whitish shade. He turned the music on again only to feel red and orange flames dancing in his mind. He shivered a little.

What was going on? Something was different. Something had changed. As he got out of his room, he knew in his heart that it was he who had changed. Had his obsession with music finally made him crazy? Ever so slowly, he went to the living room where his mom was talking on the phone. As she talked fast, a few green slivers hovered around him and vanished. He trembled and stepped out of the house unaware of where his feet were taking him.

A girl in a long dress was standing near the stream in front of Neil’s house. “Oh hello,” she said and tilted her head to look at him. Neil was about to ignore her and move past when he noticed that she was holding a small guitar. He stopped.

“Do…do you play that?” he asked. “Yes, I do” she spoke softly. “My songs are mostly lavender and purple.” Neil’s heart almost skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure what he had just heard. “Are lavender and purple…is that like a band or name of a song or something?” he asked. “No silly, those are the colors I see, those are the colors I mostly play.” Neil exhaled slowly and nodded.

“Umm, can you play the Star Wars theme?” he asked. “I don’t but looks like you may be able to. Here, take this. It’s yours!” She placed the guitar in his hand and briskly walked past the stream. The bell-shaped flowers on her long dress shimmered as she hummed and disappeared into the woods.

Neil sat down, put his head on the guitar and stayed still for a long time. Then with a swift movement, he stood up and strummed several high chords. He held the guitar tightly as he felt red, bell-shaped flakes all around him. He lifted his head high and said, “this music is mine.”

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/this-music-is-mine/feed1From the Tales of Dancing Peacockshttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/from-the-tales-of-dancing-peacocks
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/from-the-tales-of-dancing-peacocks#commentsFri, 14 Jul 2017 15:04:57 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=5057“No, no mother, I do not want to dance!” Veera shouted and threw her ankle bells on the ground. Jaya watched in horror as her daughter ran and disappeared into the thick of the jungle. Tears welled up under Jaya’s … Continue reading →

]]>“No, no mother, I do not want to dance!” Veera shouted and threw her ankle bells on the ground. Jaya watched in horror as her daughter ran and disappeared into the thick of the jungle. Tears welled up under Jaya’s long green eyelashes but she did not set them free.

Veera was a ten-year old girl born in the distinguished Dancing Peacocks clan of the jungle. She had the same green eyelashes and bluish skin like her mother and everyone else in the clan. Her walk had a natural grace. Every morning when she ran to the great lake, the flowerbeds shook their dewdrops off and the breeze made a feeble attempt to match her pace.

Veera was born to dance. Everyone was eager for the day when the clan’s grand belt, made out of hundred sparkling ankle bells would be passed on to her.

There was just one problem. At the age of ten, when Veera should be spending every morning and afternoon practicing her forms, she simply did not want to dance.

The yellow flowerbeds looked pale as Veera ran, her angry fists pushing the grass blades away. Sitting at the edge of the lake, she threw her head back and moaned, “My ankle bells are too heavy. This ground is too hard. I cannot dance!” The lake wanted to say something but there were no ripples to be seen.

The lake was huge with a light green color. It had been around forever. It had heard of many tales from the past and the future. It knew of the time when the clan folks had brown skin and black eyelashes. It knew about Veera’s great-great-great grandfather, who had taught the clan to observe the peacocks, practice for hours, and make rain and thunder through the collective roar of their ankle bells. Dancing was their prayer. Slowly the clan had surpassed the abilities of those fine birds of the jungle and transformed. Dancing was their pride. Dancing was their power. The lake had never heard of a single person from the Dancing Peacocks clan that would not dance. It shivered at the thought.

Hours passed as Veera sat there watching the lake breathe slowly. The sun was high in the sky and a sense of calm fell upon her. She knew in her heart that her mother loved her. What then was her struggle? Was it the clan, the endless practices, the prayers or the performances? As she stood up to ask the lake, she saw Jaya rushing towards her with ankle bells in her hand. Instinctively, Veera turned and jumped into the lake. “Veera! No!” Jaya’s voice echoed through the jungle. The flowerbeds trembled.

The next moment, in one fine stroke, Veera emerged from the lake and was gliding, almost dancing on the water. Her feet were swift and gentle. Her hands moved in circular motion and her eyes shone in delight. As she twirled over the water, the sun rays dazzled through the ripples splashed all over the great lake. Jaya watched in amazement.

As Veera slowly walked out of the lake, her skin glistened like the yellow flowers around. Jaya took her hand and said, “Shall we go home, Veera?” Veera nodded.

As they held each other and walked away, the lake thought of the tale of the clan of Golden Swans, who wear sparkling bells around their necks, who glide on the lakes and conquer even the vast oceans with their twirling feet. Now was that story from the past or the future? Had it just seen the beginning of the forming of Golden Swans? The lake thought so but could not decide. So it simply decided to rest. That was usually a good idea. An elated dusk was waiting eagerly to tell the jungle the glorious performance that she had just witnessed.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/from-the-tales-of-dancing-peacocks/feed5Bridges Over Three Continentshttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/bridges-over-three-continents
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/bridges-over-three-continents#commentsFri, 30 Jun 2017 17:28:35 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=4912It had been six months since I landed in a university town in Illinois for my graduate studies. Following some interesting turn of events, on a particularly snowy day, I found myself on my way to Switzerland. I was going to meet … Continue reading →

]]>It had been six months since I landed in a university town in Illinois for my graduate studies. Following some interesting turn of events, on a particularly snowy day, I found myself on my way to Switzerland. I was going to meet my penfriend for the first time. Now this was the age of slow Internet, expensive long-distance phone calls and needless to say no social media. There was no Google. Having a penfriend meant one would get hold of a pen and a piece of paper, write a letter and mail it. We had done this for years. We had never talked to each other but we had shared our worlds with each other. Mine as a city girl growing up in India and hers from a small town in eastern Switzerland. We were about the same age, we both had younger sisters and we were thousands of miles apart. Now thanks to a university friend’s online searches, my penfriend’s phone number was tracked down and arrangements were made for me to fly and spend my Winter break with her.

I landed at Zurich airport and wandered around, unsure of how to find my friend. Neither of us had cell phones and in that state of half excitement, half bewilderment, it was pretty useless for me to try to remember the plan we had discussed. I thought I heard my name on the airport’s announcement system and before I could assemble it back in my head, I saw her. I don’t remember what ensued next but I think there was some laughter, hugs and squeals of joy.

The details are blurry now but I spent the next few days in her university town, visiting different places every day. There was a day trip to one of the quintessential European castles, a visit to a cheese factory and just strolling around. I pulled together some Indian meals for her and her roommates, and she taught me the mannerism of her land. Like how certain number of pecks on cheek are customary when greeting someone and more importantly, how the number increases as you move closer to the French border! I spent a few days at her parent’s house where her family treated me like a princess. There was local food to eat, places to see and kind grandparents with twinkling eyes to hang out with. I remember distinctly a Celine Dion CD that I saw in her apartment. It struck me as odd; it was the only clue reminding me of my new home in the USA. I had walked a few bridges from India to get to USA and a few more to get to this corner in Switzerland whose address was too familiar to me. An address where my letters had obediently landed all these years. There was snow everywhere and I was in a winter wonderland.

I noticed that my friend had a soft voice and she talked carefully in English. While growing up, she would write her letters in Swiss German and her mother would translate in English before mailing them to me. Eventually when she decided to learn English, it was a pleasant surprise for me and a matter of childish pride as if I had something to do with her decision. Now we were talking in the same language and yet I could see that her demeanor was much different than mine. Maybe it was the effect of her land where there was tranquility, a slower rhythm to everyday life and natural beauty abound. It was as if instead of singing a melody, they had simply decided to live in the melody.

As my winter break approached its end, we bid goodbye. With some goodies packed in my bag and mixed emotions in my heart, I left that place. With the hope that we would perhaps meet again sometime. With a promise to keep in touch. It will soon be twenty years to our meeting and I must say, we have kept that promise.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/bridges-over-three-continents/feed3Listmania – How To Do Something, Anything!http://purpletwirls.com/blog/listmania-how-to-do-something-anything
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/listmania-how-to-do-something-anything#commentsWed, 31 May 2017 15:00:19 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=4857Recently I asked a bunch of my friends to provide me a “How To” topic that they would like me to answer. Sort of like those “Ask Aunt Sally” forums except this aunt would only quickly write down 10 ways … Continue reading →

]]>Recently I asked a bunch of my friends to provide me a “How To” topic that they would like me to answer. Sort of like those “Ask Aunt Sally” forums except this aunt would only quickly write down 10 ways to accomplish it, without thinking too much about how good, bad or ugly her ideas are. This experiment was just to exercise those mental muscles a bit and have some fun.

Travel to me is a multi-sensory experience, which is about exploring the nature, history, food and culture of that place, and engaging in activities that are unique to that place. Recording travel without photos is quite the unthinkable so this exercise was interesting. If recording is simply persisting and carrying an essence of that place with you, here are ways to do it:

Bring a souvenir or other local item: this could be some jewelry, a home decor item, spices or tea, books or whatever your heart desires. I have bought all of these. Many people collect shot glasses or snow globes or coins. We have collected decorative spoons over the years. You can check them out here at SpoonfulOfWorld.

Sketch/paint: take your art supplies with you and draw away if that’s your thing. Or come back and record your experience into your artwork.

Write: write about your travel experience. Describe the journey, the emotions, a new insight, a weird or a funny episode. I have written some of my travel experiences here.

Volunteer: although there aren’t enough opportunities to do this, volunteering can provide a unique recording of the spirit of that place. This reminds me of our time spent at the Animal Rescue Park in Costa Rica and Elephant Nature Park in Thailand. My son captured his experience with elephants as a blog here.

Keep in touch with the group: we have had some amazing shared experiences. A recent one where we were floating around Galapagos islands in the middle of ocean with 20 other enthusiastic folks. Keeping in touch with them is a great way to relive the travel moments.

Tattoo: I didn’t see this one coming but I know at least one person who tattoos a symbol of a place that means something to her! I am happy painting Costa Rican butterflies (maybe frogs?!) on my face for now.

Multiple media: mix it all together to create a multi-media output, either digital or non-digital. For example, collages of small souvenirs, poster of handwritten notes, brochures etc. If you have to go digital then scan your notes, put audio clips on top of it.

Talk/learn a language: attempt to say a few words in the local language while on travel. I know that somewhere in our South American travels lies my desire for learning Spanish. Maybe one day.

Mental recording: reflect on the essence of your travel – maybe you got to relax, maybe you felt the friendliness of locals, fun times with family. Connect a part of that with your routine life by introducing small vacation-like rituals.

Don’t: finally, don’t bother recording. If you are not too hung up on recording, perhaps it will be even more evident how different each of these places are and yet how similar. Let that feeling of wonder, security and joy stay with you. It’s something that you don’t have to share with anyone. It’s only yours.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/listmania-how-to-do-something-anything/feed0Where the stars sparkled bright…http://purpletwirls.com/blog/where-the-stars-sparkled-bright
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/where-the-stars-sparkled-bright#commentsMon, 29 May 2017 21:54:14 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=4591Once upon a time, in a small town far away, there lived Cindy, the mouse. Every morning, Cindy put on her gray coat and drove to work in her gray car. During winter, she wrapped a thick woolen scarf around … Continue reading →

]]>Once upon a time, in a small town far away, there lived Cindy, the mouse. Every morning, Cindy put on her gray coat and drove to work in her gray car. During winter, she wrapped a thick woolen scarf around her neck. No matter what the season, she always worked hard.

Cindy lived alone and did not have any friends. Sometimes after a long work day, she would sit in the porch of her house and look at the stars. In her town, the night skies were clear and stars always sparkled a bright red. It was a beautiful sight. She remembered reading somewhere that billions of stars formed a galaxy, and there were billions such galaxies that were drifting apart from each other. Even though she never noticed the stars moving, this thought evoked a pang of sadness in her heart.

On a fresh sunny day, as Cindy was stepping out of her car, she heard someone clapping. “Hello there, it is nice to meet you! My name is Bella”, she heard the cheerful voice of a small rabbit in the lawn next to her house. Bella was a brown rabbit with long ears. She had moved next door with her mom and dad. Cindy mumbled a small hello and went inside the house.

Next day, as Cindy drove towards the house, she noticed Bella playing with her ball. The ball was black and white, and a bit worn out. Bella was playing catch with her mom. Sometimes the ball would happily land into piles of crisp leaves and make a crackling sound. Bella jumped and laughed with every bounce of the ball. She paused when she saw Cindy. “Oh, I love to jump and so does my ball! Do you?”, she exclaimed. Cindy smiled and waved back.

Days went by and soon the town was in the thick of winter. Cindy had now learned that Bella loved to talk and that her favorite color was red. Her favorite food was the warm carrot porridge that her mom made specially for her. She sometimes helped her parents in the kitchen and around the house. Cindy also learned that the little rabbit did not have any toys other than the ball, and that the carrot porridge was served only on special occasions like her birthday. No matter what the day, Bella always liked to jump and laugh a lot.

One night, when Cindy stepped on her porch, she saw Bella sitting on the steps of her house. Her ball also sat next to her and did not move much. Cindy waved to her and asked if she wanted to watch stars. “Okay, Cindy. Let me ask my mom and I will be right there”, said the little rabbit softly.

As the two of them watched the night sky, the stars shone in their red glory but Bella was quieter than usual. Cindy offered her the scarf as it was getting quite cold. “Do dreams come true, Cindy?”, asked Bella after a while. Cindy never really had to answer such questions because as you all know by now, it was typically the little rabbit who did most of the talking.

Cindy thought for a while and then said slowly, “I don’t think all dreams come true. I think one can still hope and shine like these red stars.” The stars were now watching them intently. Some even decided to come closer so they could hear the mouse. It was not every night that she spoke after all. Cindy continued, “One can always work hard. What I now know and what I have learned from you, Bella, is that one can also always try to have fun!”

Painting by my very artistic friend, Snehal. It’s what triggered this story.

Bella nodded and said, “You are right, Cindy”. She returned the scarf and bid her good night. She hopped a little as she passed the lawns to her house. She could not wait to tell her parents everything that Cindy had just said. As Bella rushed into the house, the stars blinked and gave each other a wide smile. Did they know something that Cindy and Bella did not know yet? That maybe next day, Cindy was going to find her old car with an overnight shiny red makeover. That maybe next day, a surprised little rabbit was going to be kicking a bright red ball instead of her old one. It was going to be a new day. The two of them were going to laugh a lot. Perhaps for a long time. The folks in the town were going to tell the story of that amazing night when they saw the stars showering down a dazzling red light. They would tell each other how after that night, the stars were never red but they continued to sparkle bright. Perhaps for a long, long time.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/where-the-stars-sparkled-bright/feed1Lily and a backyard that had mayflowershttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/lily-and-a-backyard-that-had-mayflowers
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/lily-and-a-backyard-that-had-mayflowers#commentsSat, 30 Jul 2016 19:24:54 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3722The sun shone bright that morning. “Is it the first day of summer vacation, mumma?”, asked Lily while still in bed. “Yes, it is”, Piya replied. “That means no school, right?”, Lily felt she had to ask to make sure. “Yes, … Continue reading →

]]>The sun shone bright that morning. “Is it the first day of summer vacation, mumma?”, asked Lily while still in bed. “Yes, it is”, Piya replied. “That means no school, right?”, Lily felt she had to ask to make sure. “Yes, dear”, Piya put her cup of hot ginger tea down and walked towards Lily, who was still buried under her blanket. Lily loved to sleep for long hours and Piya liked to let her sleep to her heart’s content, sometimes even letting her skip the early morning half day school on Saturdays. In the town where they lived, it was quite unusual for kids to sleep like that, for all parents were convinced there was always something that the kids had to do in the mornings – either go to school or pray or recite something.

Lily had now jumped out of the bed and throwing her arms around her mother, she yelled, “That means we are going to grandma’s house, right?”. The smile wore off Piya’s face. She took a deep breath and looked into the wide open eyes that were looking at her with excitement. Those dark black eyes, that forehead, the curled locks of Lily’s hair made her resemble her mother, Lily’s favorite grandma. She didn’t want to believe her own voice when she heard herself saying “Yes, dear”.

The train journey to grandma’s house was a long one. Lily had packed her books, her doll and a couple small round boxes. The boxes were filled with grey, red and black sand. She was thinking of all the games she played with her grandma. Grandma was a resourceful woman. She always had interesting games ready for Lily. She would bring different grains and lentils from the jars in her kitchen, and the two of them would spend hours in the veranda creating colorful art. Sometimes they would play with beads and shells, and grandma would show Lily how to count using those. Sometimes they would sneak out to the backyard and grandma would teach Lily how to read. It was their secret project that had kept them busy for some time. When one day, Lily read a whole sentence all by herself, the most proud person in the room was Piya as she could not believe that her two and half year old baby was reading. Lily and grandma had so much fun unleashing that surprise on Piya.

Lily had been waiting to show her grandma the boxes of sand that she had bought on her recent trip to the beach. She turned to her doll and exclaimed, “Oh, this sand is going to make the bestest art!”. The doll nodded in amusement for she could never exactly figure out all the games Lily and her grandma played. When she looked outside, the train had zipped out of her town and they were now surrounded by green pastures. Soon the pastures passed hurriedly as if they had sensed Lily’s urgency.

Lily rushed through a familiar wooden gate and paused at the veranda. There was a lady sitting in a large rocking chair. As soon as she saw Lily and Piya, she got up and smiled. But Lily knew where she had to go to find her grandma. She entered the house and before her feet could feel the cold stone floor, she ran straight to the backyard. Grandma’s backyard was huge. The grass here didn’t have the bright green color that she had seen during their train journey but rather a yellowish hue that made her instantly feel welcome. A huge mango tree stood in the middle of the backyard. A few tiny brown sparrows and black crows always found something there to peck at.

On one side, there was a small patch where rows of red mayflowers would bloom around monsoon time. The mayflowers were the most interesting part of that backyard. Some called them fireball lilies for they were always so bright and lively. They had a huge round flower-head, where dewdrops liked to sit and chit chat in the sun rays of early morning. But the coziest place was the steps of the house that extended into the backyard. You could sit on those steps in the comforting shade of the roof and watch the birds for hours. It was Lily’s favorite pastime when she was not busy pouring over the stories grandma had written for her. Her grandma had written lots of books for grown-ups too. That was enough reason for Lily to try and grow up as fast as she could. This is where grandma would bring a large steel plate with warm rice, ghee and a flavorful mixture of spices that only grandma knew how to make. She would mix everything together, make tiny balls of rice and feed Lily. Lily thought of the snack she had last eaten in the train and wondered if it was about time to demand those perfect round rice balls. Her eyes wandered everywhere in the backyard looking for grandma.

“Hello!”, she heard a small voice and turned around to see that there was a single mayflower that had bloomed in the patch. “Oh, hello! Do you know where my grandma is?”, Lily asked as she tiptoed towards the mayflower. “I know that your grandma is gone.” As usual, Lily had lots of questions to ask but something definitive in the mayflower’s tone made her pause for some time. “What do I do now?”, she finally managed to ask. “Well, you can sit next to me and try to catch these dewdrops”, said the mayflower. “Oh, is it okay to do that? They don’t let us do anything like that in my school.” “This is not your school, is it?”, winked the flower and continued. “Let me tell you a secret. I am not supposed to be here until the first monsoon rains but I sneaked out and came here to meet you”. Now it was Lily’s turn to giggle. “Oh, is it okay to do that?” She thought it was quite defiant of this little flower to do that. Finally she said, “I think I miss my grandma. Is it okay to miss my grandma?”. The mayflower shook the dewdrops off and straightened its head. “Oh yes, it is okay. It is okay to miss her forever”, the flower’s voice was suddenly louder now. “Of course it is okay to do what you want to do. It is okay to be all that you want to be”, and the flower talked and talked.

Sun was shining brightly again as Lily rushed inside the house. The lady who had greeted them on the veranda was lightly patting her mother on her shoulder. Lily ran straight into her mother’s arms and declared, “Mumma, I am going to be a writer just like grandma!”. Before tears could gather in Piya’s eyes, she had managed to smile. “Yes, dear”, she simply said. They held hands and walked around in the house with its open windows that showed glimpses of the large backyard. The mango tree stood there silently and there were no birds to be seen.

Soon the two of them walked out of the wooden gate. Lily had just realized that she had forgotten to pack her pencils. One always starts with a fresh supply of sharpened pencils and paper if one wants to write all those stories. She was thinking hard as she walked towards the train station. She was going to write many stories and maybe use the colorful sand to decorate her paper. Yes, that would look nice. That made sense. She climbed inside the train and sat next to her mother.

It was the end of a long day. As she closed her eyes, she could already see her first story with its beautiful sand art. The story was of course going to be about her beloved grandma and a spirited little mayflower.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/lily-and-a-backyard-that-had-mayflowers/feed3Because a trail never endshttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/because-a-trail-never-ends
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/because-a-trail-never-ends#commentsMon, 14 Mar 2016 02:38:51 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3639It all started when he climbed Kilimanjaro. We hosted celebratory parties and raised our fine champagne glasses. My son even wrote a poem to congratulate his dad on this fantastic achievement. We figured that all this cheering was very apt … Continue reading →

]]>It all started when he climbed Kilimanjaro. We hosted celebratory parties and raised our fine champagne glasses. My son even wrote a poem to congratulate his dad on this fantastic achievement. We figured that all this cheering was very apt and that we were ready to get back in the routine. What we didn’t know was that a piece of Kilimanjaro had rubbed off on him and in turn entered our lives. Suddenly there was a flurry of outdoor activities. Very often on Saturdays, we left our cozy couch and ventured out on hikes as if that was totally our weekend thing. Soon the pantry was stacked with Gatorade and protein bars and the likes. In the middle of all this outdoorsy-ness, one day, I found myself discussing bicycling with a couple of my friends. The next thing I knew, I was on a biking trail on a crisp day in Fall, for what would be the beginning of a long bond with that trail.

As I stood there, miles and miles of road was spread in front me. I was wearing my favorite hoodie and tights, ready to ride my lavender mountain bike. A tiny purse was hanging on the handles, and in it there was a small snack and my phone. My obedient phone was going to keep track of the distance and victoriously announce every mile that I would cover. I breathed the fresh air and started pedaling. This was fun! Speed, I am speed. And wham! Two bikers in their tight biking outfits, thin tires of their race bikes spinning in unison, their backs arched and eyes focused on the road, zoomed by with a speed my phone could not fathom. Their bright bike jerseys disappeared in a flash. I kept pedaling even when I couldn’t. I was now convinced that my stupid hoodie was messing the fine aerodynamics that was almost mandatory on that trail. I cursed my heavy mountain bike when I pushed the damn thing all the way up a hilly portion of the trail. And then I saw them again and again, bikes with their razor sharp tires, bikers that sipped water without skipping a beat, calf muscles chiseled in stone, and attitudes that were there to conquer the trail. My phone whispered that I had completed 5 miles. I guess it was a start.

The trail didn’t say much. It was there. You could make of it whatever you wanted to. As the Fall colors shone in their full glory, I ached to go back more on that trail though. Riding on that trail was actually a perfect way to slow down. Every year, I am fascinated by the phenomenon that is the Fall colors and I marvel at how fast they show up and disappear. This time, as I pedaled my bike, I soaked into the colors one leaf at a time. The landscape was moving one frame at a time. Some peach colored maples were busy showering their leaves on the black trail. I could have caught a few in my hands and scattered them in the air. My lavender bike with its black tires was moving smoothly. I was the breeze flowing through them.

As I biked more, I noticed more. There were all sorts of people out on that trail – running, biking, and simply wandering around. You would see a couple holding hands, little kids behind their father happily pedaling a tandem bike, and friends with coffee cups in their hands. One day, an old guy biking on the other side smiled and waved at me. I smiled back and before I had time to un-smile, I was facing another biker. She thought I was smiling at her and so she smiled back. Sometimes bikers in front of me would give a heads-up of cars that were passing at an intersection. Sometimes I would see the same people I had passed and a glimpse of recognition would flicker on their faces. One day, when I stopped on the side looking for my snack that had jumped out of my purse, a biker slowed down and asked if I was okay. Another day, I biked with a couple of my girl-friends and we did everything that was not in the trail rule book – we talked non-stop, we giggled and we cheered when we saw upward slopes. The trail always had its varied faces – determined, tired and smiling faces. The trail itself was that one never-changing constant. It always said only one thing – just keep pedaling. Why? Because you can. Because a trail never ends.

Today I kept going to complete a 20-mile bike ride. It was the third time I had done it this month. After the ride, I decided to sit down on a bench and stretch my feet. I ate my snack, clicked a few photos, and then instead of rushing back home, I pedaled another 5 miles. When I saw the lot where my car was parked, I gave a sigh of relief. A sense of calm fell upon me or maybe it was just the tired body that had managed to clear my mind. I lifted my beautiful mountain bike with both my hands and the last ounce of energy left in me (in my mind, I was totally lifting it with one hand as I was giving a triumphant laugh) and put it on the bike stand on my car. I was ready to go home.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/because-a-trail-never-ends/feed1Of Stories that I Tell Myself and Writehttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/of-stories-that-i-tell-myself-and-write
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/of-stories-that-i-tell-myself-and-write#commentsSat, 23 Jan 2016 20:37:10 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3616There is an old photograph of a little girl sitting in the middle of a cozy room. The room is empty except for books scattered from one end of the floor to another. The girl, her hair tied in neat plaits … Continue reading →

]]>There is an old photograph of a little girl sitting in the middle of a cozy room. The room is empty except for books scattered from one end of the floor to another. The girl, her hair tied in neat plaits with red ribbons, is bent over a book. Her cheek resting on her fist, she is so engrossed in reading that she is not aware of anyone taking that photograph. That girl is me. I have looked at that photograph a few times over the years. It’s a beautiful memory of someone who loved reading, loved being immersed in a world of imagination – where characters were not afraid to show their true colors, plots unfolded like meandering streams and stories sometimes didn’t have a happy ending.

As years have gone by, that’s what that photograph has turned into though – a beautiful memory. Don’t get me wrong, I am still very fond of books. When people talk lovingly about books and have a sparkle in their eyes, I know exactly the joy they are experiencing. I feel a sense of pride when I see my son captivated by books. But I don’t see myself pouring over books much anymore. I wonder if this world that was once a huge part of my life has slowly closed a door. If I was into citing quotes, I would have followed that by ‘…and it has opened other doors’. Ha! But I dislike quotes. They come without any context, they don’t care for the nuances that are only possible in a story and yet they have the audacity to project a certain authority. So no, I have not checked to see what new doors have opened for me. My guess is that they are tired of all the openings and closings and have thrown their knobs up in the air by now.

What I do know is that I have become a bit keener on being able to write stories. I feel joyous when I write a simple story and my friends tell me that they connected with it. Then I try to write an even simpler story. A story that unravels a few knots in my mind but is largely uncomplicated, like a few ripples on a still pond. My stories are most content when they mirror my way of life.

Sometimes these stories write themselves out of the experiences I have, sometimes it’s a little annoying to see that my words fumble, unable to hold the richness of my experience in their palms. Like the pretty foam art on a cup of coffee that is created with much finesse but is gone as soon as the first sip is had. Whatever the case may be, a story that gets written has the power to calm that inner voice a bit. The one that pleads me to create – create, create something, anything. Self-expression has that raw power that arises out of the sheer vulnerability where you pluck your innermost emotions and gently put them in front of the world to see. It’s a fine balance of power and poise.

So many stories to write

Now only if I was a writer, how nice would that be! A master of own words, I would wave a wand to conjure pieces of beauty. I would sit next to a window with red bougainvillea flowers in bloom, watching the artistic bustle of a tropical town. As the place would light up around dusk, words would surely flow like a sultry breeze. Oh well. Who am I kidding? As good as this daydreaming is, one thing that has been noted again and again is that great creative moments are not without an effort. In fact, there are no great moments of “aha”-ness but a natural culmination of talent, dedication and hard work. A convergence of a mind that connects the dots after diverging into the variety that life has to offer. The phrase to remember here and practice is the Growth Mindset.

So the only story that I can tell myself is this – you want to write? You pick up that pen and write. Hold those bougainvilleas in your mind for a bit and don’t worry about what gets written. You want to dance? You get up and move, and trust that you will have fun. I am not sure where I am going with this, so let me just say that I hope I keep writing a few more stories, including the story that’s called my life. If I don’t, who will? Here you go, I just did.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/of-stories-that-i-tell-myself-and-write/feed3When there is nothing to dohttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/when-there-is-nothing-to-do
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/when-there-is-nothing-to-do#commentsThu, 03 Sep 2015 18:32:37 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3572There is nothing to do right now. I am on a planned stay-cation, probably for the first time in my adult life. My husband is out of town, my son has gone to a friend’s place for a sleepover, couple of work meetings that sneaked … Continue reading →

]]>There is nothing to do right now. I am on a planned stay-cation, probably for the first time in my adult life. My husband is out of town, my son has gone to a friend’s place for a sleepover, couple of work meetings that sneaked into the stay-cation are over, food is cooked, laundry is done, social media has been browsed. I have zero obligations for the next few hours and very few light activities planned in the next couple of days.

Do you know how this feels? It is hard to describe, this feeling. It is interesting. There is a mild satisfaction of being in that state where the busy, working mom stereotype is broken into pieces. There is an amusement that the stereotype is successfully broken by ‘doing nothing’. There is some longing to be with the family that’s away from me. All those vacation days I typically save and keep aside for family vacations are evaporating right in front of my eyes. The clock is ticking without me. The world is doing okay without my active involvement. Of course, there is no need to agonize over that for that’s actually not far from reality. There is a silence surrounding me that’s only interrupted by the keystrokes as I type on my laptop.

It’s a perfect opportunity to pick up a book, put some music on and dance, maybe learn something, do something. After all, my list of things that I would like to do is very much ready. It is tempting me and laughing at me. And yet, I don’t want to take any activity on. I am dismantling the very machinery of what separates my day from another, morning from afternoon and evening. I want to rebel by resting my mind. I don’t want to plan. I don’t want to introspect.

I really want to go nowhere nor do I want to restrain my mind from going in a particular direction. Let it wander and dwell in the past. Let it see all of me – as a child, then a teenager, a wife, a mother, a friend, a worker, a philosopher, an artist, a dreamer. Let it see all those years filled with joy, curiosity, anxiety, pain, surrender, and confidence. Let it just see the past because it can. Where is the need to figure out if the glass is half empty or half full when it’s always full with life? Let it imagine a future because it can. Let it paint it with bold strokes of desire, creativity, perseverance and smile. And if it’s done wandering around, let it come back here. It can then rest some more. I should stop typing now. Maybe close my eyes and lie down. But in this nothingness, will the eyes even open again? How? I will just have to wrap myself up in a conviction that I will get up and drink from that glass, no matter what it has to offer. Cheers. I am closing my eyes now.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/when-there-is-nothing-to-do/feed0Changing the wiring of my brainhttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/changing-the-wiring-of-my-brain
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/changing-the-wiring-of-my-brain#commentsMon, 10 Aug 2015 01:02:30 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=352618 days ago, I decided to change the wiring of my brain. No, it is not as bizarre as it sounds. Or maybe it is. I had read somewhere that keeping a journal of your positive experiences allows your brain to essentially replay those, … Continue reading →

]]>18 days ago, I decided to change the wiring of my brain. No, it is not as bizarre as it sounds. Or maybe it is. I had read somewhere that keeping a journal of your positive experiences allows your brain to essentially replay those, in turn enforcing more happy connections. It’s like training your brain by fooling it a bit. Apparently, doing this for two weeks is all it takes to change those wires significantly. Now, who doesn’t like to mess with their own brain?? In the spirit of experimentation, I decided to try it out.

Also, anyone thinking of the movie Inside Out at this point and visualizing those cute characters representing your emotions jumping up and down in the brain? Anyhow, I wrote down a positive experience every single day for 18 days (okay, I kinda cheated on one day). As I discovered with another experiment I had tried a while back, building that discipline to do something every single day is hard but the experimental nature of it surely makes it fun. Did my wiring change at the end of it? Did unicorns and angels enter my world and splash rainbows all over it? Ouch. I don’t know. I hope not. But here is what I found out:

My days are generally not completely devoid of positive experiences. Yay?

I didn’t have to try hard to come up with one positive experience a day, they were happening.

Smaller experiences can have a deeper impact if you take the time to be aware of them. They are after all happening to you and it’s okay to pause and look.

Emotions are layered. Not exactly segregated like in the movie Inside Out. For example, there can be pride underlying joy or awe underlying jealousy. The emotion that is at the foreground can mask you and throw you off, but looking at the layers underneath can help you deal with a situation in a much constructive way.

There is a distinction between a positive emotion that you feel while an experience is happening Vs. an action/thought that you deem as a better choice and give yourself a “well done” for it. It’s an important distinction for the latter requires retrospection.

Now if you are still reading, you are probably curious about those journal entries I wrote down. Not gonna disappoint you, my friend! Here you go. If you are feeling more curious and a bit adventurous, then may I suggest that it is time to start your own journal and fiddle with those wires a bit? Beware of short circuits. You have been warned.

Day 1 - I enjoyed a game of monopoly we played as a family. It was relaxing and exciting at the same time. My son was thrilled that he bankrupted his parents and I was thrilled that he had managed to do so only in monopoly.

Day 2 - I had fun in my first salsa dance lesson. Also thankful for this cheerful (and cute!) instructor. I don’t know what it is about dancing, but when I am out there, no matter whether I get the steps or not, it just feels like I am in my element. It instantly puts me in a great mood and makes me do things like raise my hand when the instructor is looking for a guinea pig to show some moves. I think I will go back next week!

Day 3 – I am glad about my son’s attempts at creating a comic book and our time together. We discussed the story line, characters, different endings and he drew a few sketches. I know I am going to have to push him to keep working on it but for now it’s great to see him feel excited about something..so what if the plot involves some crazy head-spinning time travel and gory dinosaur attacks!

Day 4 – I am grateful for the opportunity to act as a mentor in a Technology mentor-protégé program. As I was driving back, I remembered how a few years ago, when I was a protégé in this same program, some very wonderful people had energized me. Today I could relate with my protégé since I had been in that same place. Today the roles were reversed and I felt content that I was there with all my energy and spirit.

Day 5 – I feel good that I chose to exercise restrain and keep emotions out of a text message. Maybe this gave the other person some space to apologize to me profusely, which in turn helped me keep my cool and everything just spiraled in a much positive direction.

Day 6 – It made me feel happy when I heard a phrase from a colleague. I had been advising their team for about a month and we were discussing when I would wrap up my work with them. In the middle of that conversation, I heard the phrase “you are a Godsend on our project, Prachi”. It was very satisfying to see that I was able to contribute towards their mission and in that excitement, I chose to not ponder over what a phrase like that translates to for a non-believer :p

Day 7 – I am thankful for being able to work from home. I realize it’s a flexibility not everyone has. A commute-free day made for a more relaxed and productive work day, which just flowed into an evening of a wholesome meal of tacos, followed by a game of Uno with my son. A game of Uno on a workday, people! That’s huge.

Day 8 – As the day was getting to an end, I thought it was just going meh and I wouldn’t have anything to record. After a long day spent doing weekend chores while my husband was away for a training hike, he came back in the evening and announced that he had made reservation at an Indo-chinese restaurant. One of my favorite cuisines and the taste was pretty good too. It’s funny how I ended up having something to record after all.

Day 9 – I am grateful for a moment I had while cooking. Before I go further, it’s important to note how much I dislike the mundaneness of the daily chore that is planning, cooking and cleaning. Today my son said he wanted to help me cook. As I held his hands to show him how to stir fry vegetables, I was hit by the pure positivity of that moment, in which I was teaching him and we were trying something together. Suddenly, there was a huge meaning in that same act. I hugged him and told him I could keep cooking if he helped me like that every day. Okay, clearly I was a bit carried away. :-)

Day 10 - I am glad that the frustration over a topic led me to snap out of lethargy and act. The details are not that interesting but this was an instance of a seemingly negative emotion triggering some action on my part – a silver lining that I will grab out of that dark cloud any time.

Day 11 – I forgot to add to my daily journal. Maybe an indication that I had a generally action-packed and productive day. So I am being retroactively thankful for that! Yeah, yeah, new rule – retroactive thankfulness is allowed.

Day 12 – I am thankful for friends today. An old friend decided to take time away from his work day and offered to talk to me about some career related questions I had.

Day 13 – I am grateful for a kind gesture by one of the project managers I work with. She emailed me multiple times to make sure I could join a team celebration event. It made me feel good and made for a nice change in the pace of a typical hectic work day.

Day 14 – I was happy and relaxed when I spent a few minutes in the new hammock we put in the backyard. Also felt nice that it was my husband who suggested that I go and lie down in it for a few minutes before dinner. He probably also wanted to test the hammock! Sure, why not?

Day 15 – I was happy when I was spending an afternoon hanging out with a new friend. She is certainly an energetic and animated person that you can have fun talking to. Our boys played and we took a long stroll on the trail behind my back yard.

Day 16 – I had a good time watching Sound of Music with my son. I have to say that this choice of movie from him came as a pleasant surprise and I thoroughly enjoyed watching him watch it.

Day 17 – I felt happy when my son got me a finger ring from his dentist’s office. His dentist keeps small toys like balls and rings in teeny boxes and every kid gets to choose a box on their visit. I have several of these finger rings he has brought for me over the years but every single time he brings one, it fills my heart with surprise and joy.

Day 18 – After a long work day, stuck in traffic, I could see my energy levels dropping by the minute. I also very much dislike the thought of me being hungry. I called home, then stopped at a Starbucks, bought a slice of cake, sat outside and slowly ate all of it. I was just happy that I made a decision to take that small break.

That’s all, people! Thanks for reading. Like I said, I don’t know if this exercise had a point or proved a point. What I do know is that somewhere there is a woman right now happily turning her journal entries into a blog and willing to take on the world just a little bit more again.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/changing-the-wiring-of-my-brain/feed4Fun Times at Elephant Nature Parkhttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/fun-times-at-elephant-nature-park
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/fun-times-at-elephant-nature-park#commentsSun, 11 Jan 2015 23:32:51 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3443This blog post, written by my son, describes the two days he spent with elephants in Thailand. Thrilled to have him as a guest blogger here! :-) We went to Elephant Nature Park in Mae Taeng, Thailand, a town 90 minutes from … Continue reading →

]]>This blog post, written by my son, describes the two days he spent with elephants in Thailand. Thrilled to have him as a guest blogger here! :-)

We went to Elephant Nature Park in Mae Taeng, Thailand, a town 90 minutes from Chiang Mai. The park had 41 Asian elephants. When we arrived, we saw three of them ready to be fed. Elephants know when it is feeding time on their own. Then, the elephants came toward us, and our guide showed us how to feed them. The elephants eat lots of watermelons. To feed an elephant, you need to put the watermelon behind the trunk, wait for it to hold on and put the watermelon in its mouth. I felt nice when I fed the elephants. Some elephants eat bananas and pumpkins. I touched the elephant’s big trunk which was rough like sandpaper.

We walked to the river because we were on a tour to see the elephants. We also got to pet them, but not the babies because the mother always tries to protect the baby elephant. The herd had five elephants. We watched the herd bathe. The baby was swimming and diving, splashing and cuddling with its mother in the river. We all liked the baby elephant playing. One of the elephants which was blind, thought the water in river was cold so it did not take a bath. After the bath, the herd dried their bodies, took mud in their trunks and sprayed it on their backs to keep cool. It was fun seeing them spray mud on their backs. The baby elephant loved eating food and playing with the dogs by chasing them. There are more than 400 dogs in Elephant Nature Park because they also rescue dogs and cats. Everybody thought the happy and playful baby was cute. The elephant herd was nice and happy. The herd really loved the baby elephant very much.

We ate lunch and fed more elephants bananas and water melons. Then, we walked back to the river and brought water buckets with us. We stood in the river and got wet. We learned how to bathe an elephant; we fill the bucket with water and dump it on its back. We all got soaked with water. We all had a water fight by dumping water and soaking people. Bathing the elephant was very fun. If you are bathing an elephant, it will most likely be a female because there are only six males so far. After that, we ate dinner and I had my second foot massage at the spa. The massage was very comfortable for my feet.

Later, our guide led us to our small house that we will sleep in only for that night. We had a house because we were sleeping at the Elephant Nature Park overnight. Our beds were all covered with mosquito nets all around so we didn’t get bitten by any mosquitoes. We went out for dinner and then came to our house to sleep. Our house was in a small village surrounded by lots of cats and dogs. The next day I had more fun with the big giant elephants because my first day was great.

The next day, we ate breakfast and fed more elephants. After that, we saw an elephant that was blind so it used its trunk as a walking stick to know where to walk. Her name was “Jokia” which meant “eye of heaven”. Then, we saw a male elephant named “jungle boy” with beautiful shiny white tusks. After that, we saw the same herd bathe in the river with the baby elephant splashing around. When the herd got out of the water, the baby elephant saw another baby elephant and played with it. The herd thought they lost the baby so they trumpeted very loudly. The elephant herd needs to stay alert, watch out and keep the baby elephant safe.

Next, we had lunch and then gave the elephant a bath. We got soaked even more this time. It was great. After bathing again, we saw an elephant that had a short trunk. So it ate bananas by putting them in its nostrils and blowing them in its mouth. That was cool. I wondered how the elephant felt when it blows bananas in its mouth.

Later, we fed the elephant herd lots of pumpkins. We fed the baby elephant this time. I enjoyed feeding the baby. I learned that in African elephant species, males and females both have tusks but in Asian elephant species, only males do. The Elephant Nature Park was made to protect elephants and make sure they can survive, not for enjoyment so no riding them and no teaching them circus tricks. The Elephant Nature Park helps elephants be free elephants. People kill elephants to get their tusks made out of ivory and sell them. But if we have an elephant park to protect the elephants and stop ivory trade, elephants will live happily. I had a fun time seeing elephants at the Elephant Nature Park!

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/fun-times-at-elephant-nature-park/feed12Simple beginningshttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/simple-beginnings
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/simple-beginnings#commentsTue, 09 Dec 2014 22:36:53 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3314It is a rainy Sunday afternoon. The tall trees in my backyard are touching the thick canopy of a gray sky. A lone bird is flapping its wings through the clouds. I wonder if it is beginning a new journey. Give me some space … Continue reading →

]]>It is a rainy Sunday afternoon. The tall trees in my backyard are touching the thick canopy of a gray sky. A lone bird is flapping its wings through the clouds. I wonder if it is beginning a new journey. Give me some space today, maybe a small corner next to this window, so I may sit there and do nothing.

The taste of the hot tea I sipped in the morning is still lingering in my mind. Give me a few moments so I may wrap myself in this foggy afternoon. Let me rest a little and dissolve into this lull.

Give me a respite so that in this void then, activity will have a fair chance to rise. A spontaneous activity that brings simple joy. A youthful mind that knows how to act freely. Like a playful swing on a wide, open beach.

Give me some space so that I may rebel. Do you not see that only after I sip that defiance, I may morph into the most poised person there could be?

Give me that assurance, just a tiny assurance that I don’t really have any obligations, not even to myself. Do you not see that in that careless arrogance are the seeds of deep responsibility?

Give me space to feel my pain fully, without having to minimize it by mapping it on the scale of global suffering. When I truly see my pain, that understanding will hold the beginning of an unbound empathy.

I am nothing if not a play of seeming opposites. In my devilish drunken laughter, angels rush to sing.

Give me space so I can fill it with air and breathe it carefully. Not as a wife or a mother or a woman, but simply as a being that breathes. Let me play if I want to play, let me work if I want to work. Don’t bother forcing on me this work-play balance.

Let me be in that space where there is no one feeding me intelligent teachings. Not even that ancient wisdom that tells me again and again to ‘live in the moment’. For when I am ‘thinking’ about living in the moment, am I really living in the moment?

Give me a moment where I may forget present. Where I may face my past, unfold the dreams of future and watch as they both fade away slowly and then zero in on present.

Give me space to bury my prejudices. When I bury them and stand with my head straight, give me the freedom to even bury my happiness if I so choose.

Give me space so I can place a few musical notes in it and spread the crescendo of my melody. For without that space, there is no music. Without that space, there is no painting. Give me some space when I dance so my feet may fall lightly even on unfamiliar beats.

A space so gentle and flexible that it can dance and twist, and I will watch as thousand universes awaken in that möbius strip.

If you have read thus far, let me just say: this is not a prayer, not at all. I am not asking for anything. It is simply a conviction that forms the conditions of my life, my being.

So like I was saying, I will be in this corner a bit longer and write my story. A story that doesn’t have to fit in a page. Oh yes, this is only a beginning.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/simple-beginnings/feed1The story of a little leafhttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/story-of-a-little-leaf
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/story-of-a-little-leaf#commentsSun, 19 Oct 2014 01:16:33 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3207The door opened and a boy stepped out holding two small pumpkins and a ghost. He placed the pumpkins carefully outside the door. Then he climbed on the maple tree in the front yard and hung the ghost on one of its branches. … Continue reading →

]]>The door opened and a boy stepped out holding two small pumpkins and a ghost. He placed the pumpkins carefully outside the door. Then he climbed on the maple tree in the front yard and hung the ghost on one of its branches. A little leaf, very excited to see the ghost, jumped up and down and yelled “it’s time!”. Indeed it was that time of the year when white ghosts sway in the front yards, silvery cobwebs take over the bushes, maple trees burst into brilliant colors of peach-orange and kids everywhere turn into superheros!

The little leaf had secretly decided that it was also going to be a superhero. It was going to wear the best red color possible amid its neighboring peach-colored leaves. Soon the trick-or-treating kids would pass the tree, and they would surely stop and say “Oh look, what a bright little hero!”. The leaf would then beam with happiness and pride. How it had dreamed about that moment. That moment felt like a sip of warm apple cider on a fresh day in Fall.

But sometimes things don’t exactly happen the way you imagine them. Stuff happens. And so it did. This time, it happened in the form of a storm. The storm moved slowly and engulfed the maple tree. Some of the wiser and bolder leaves asked everyone to stay calm. The ghost assured everyone that the storm would be over soon. It had survived many seasons after all. The little leaf shivered. Why was it getting hit so hard by the cold rain? Was it facing the direction of the storm? Had it jumped up and down too much earlier? Was it going to fall? Of course, sometimes there are no good answers. Sometimes there are no good questions. Memories of that one moment when it had seen the ghost and felt so elated, were fading fast. “C’est la vie” the little leaf murmured but in its heart it very much wanted the storm to be over. If a storm comes to your doorsteps and stays for a few hours, you can watch it in dismay. You can shudder with every crackling thunder and hey, even curse if you want. What if the storm stays for days and days? Well then you just shut up and count the days. The tired little leaf covered its eyes and kept counting. Slowly the counting stopped but the storm did not.

After a very, very long time (well, nobody knows exactly how long because like I said, there was no one counting), the storm was gone. The little leaf managed a weak smile and looked around. Hold on, something felt very different. For one, it could now see the cleared sky, which it typically never did. And it could also see all the other maple leaves in their soothing peach-colored outfits, waving gently. “What’s going on? Why are you all so tiny?” the little leaf shouted. Something was not right. It clenched its fist. Now leaves don’t really have fists to clench. But if you had looked closely, you would have seen the little leaf all curled up. You would have also noticed how hard it was trying to hide the tears that it was too proud to show.

The leaf exhaled slowly and as if in a flash, it saw everything. It knew it had fallen and was now separated from the tree. It knew that life would not be normal any more. Rather, there would be a new normal to find. It would focus on itself and find its strength. It didn’t know how; these things weren’t easy after all. But perhaps the passing day would take care of it. Perhaps the setting sun knew how to do it. Perhaps the leaf simply needed to rest. Whatever it took, the leaf would do it. It would keep working on it slowly and silently, and it would let the tears roll if they had to. With that thought, the leaf closed its eyes. The last sound it heard was the boy shouting “Mom, look at this maple leaf!”.

When the leaf opened its eyes, things still felt quite different and yet all around it was a warm glow of the morning sun. It noticed that it was next to a big bunch of sunflowers, some bright red berries and brown grapevine twigs. Seeing its puzzled expression, the sunflower laughed and said “We all are part of a wreath that the boy and his mom made last night. See how beautiful you look!”. Indeed. The little leaf could see the boy and his mom sitting on the doorsteps and chatting excitedly about their upcoming Halloween party. It was going to be the most fun (or funnest as the boy liked to say) and scariest party in the neighborhood. There would be spooky masks and skeletons that sat up in the front yard. There would be buckets and buckets of candies, fake cheese fingers and wiggly worm gummies to chew on. As the leaf watched them, the maple tree seemed so distant. The wind blew softly. Several leaves swirled away and disappeared in the sky. Suddenly the sky had an orange hue. Had those whirling leaves also found their home somewhere in the sky? The little maple leaf wondered. It took a deep breath and rested lightly on the wreath.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/story-of-a-little-leaf/feed2My two worlds and disappearing wallshttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/my-two-worlds-and-disappearing-walls
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/my-two-worlds-and-disappearing-walls#commentsMon, 28 Jul 2014 15:39:47 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3083It’s a Friday night again. I am done watching a movie. It must be close to midnight. Usually my Friday night movies are feel-good ones that give me a nice breather. After all a weekend full of possibilities lies ahead! But … Continue reading →

]]>It’s a Friday night again. I am done watching a movie. It must be close to midnight. Usually my Friday night movies are feel-good ones that give me a nice breather. After all a weekend full of possibilities lies ahead! But tonight I am awake as a hawk. Sleep is not my friend tonight. I take a peek outside. There are fireflies flickering against the silhouette of tall, dark trees in my backyard. Amazing creatures of summer nights. It’s fun to watch them. It’s kinda mesmerizing.

It’s enough to dismiss the sentinels of my mind so that it flows to another world. A world of my distant past. A place and time locked in my memories and easy to revive if I just close my eyes. A place where I am a carefree, teenage daughter to loving parents. A big sister to a young girl. A time when everything is perfect and yet I am totally unaware of that perfection. A story whose details will erode through the passage of time and leave a feeling of love behind. A story which has my dad in it. My big, strong dad with a sharp sense of humor and a kind heart. A story which ends at that moment when he vanishes from our lives. That one moment of truth, which has the force to push me into a whole new world. A world where I am independent and I have to choose. I can choose to be my own caretaker or I can be careless and not give a damn. I can love myself or I can hate myself. And I would do it all. No one to rule my mind…no one to guide it. A world where I could move to a new country, find the love of my life, survive, learn, excel, hug my child, struggle, smile and dance. And I would do it all.
As I lay in bed, my heart wants to merge the two worlds so I can call it my single reality and own it. One world that has all the people I have loved and all the moments I have cherished. Where my husband is hanging out with my fun-loving father. Where my son is playing with his grandfather and their laughter echoes in the walls of my home. But that seems like a futile thought. That is an impossibility of course. And yet, as the magnitude of that impossibility crushes my soul, I see myself in the place of my dad. I am a loving parent to a happy kid. A kid whose world is perfect and he doesn’t even know how perfect. It’s funny how I think I will soon be the same age as my dad for his age is frozen in my mind. The faces are rapidly moving in front of me as if frames of a movie that’s playing in all directions. The roles are getting all mixed up now. My identities scattered through the two worlds are melting. The fireflies are gone. The walls separating my worlds are disappearing. The logic that binds the impossibility is falling apart. The silence is slowly moving up my spine and it refuses to stop until it frees my heart, until it makes me accept the never-ending ache, until it holds an eternity in a moment of my insignificant, short life.

It must be the beginning of a Saturday for life goes on. There will of course be more Friday nights when I am wide awake. But that doesn’t matter right now. I am asleep in my bed, breathing what I would later call the purest of all air known to me, listening to what I would later call the never-ceasing sound of silence.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/my-two-worlds-and-disappearing-walls/feed8Out on the road – an evening in Springhttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/out-on-the-road-an-evening-in-spring
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/out-on-the-road-an-evening-in-spring#commentsFri, 09 May 2014 00:12:21 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=3022It’s a gorgeous evening in Spring. What is it about these sun rays that are filtering through the trees? They turn everything into one magnificent canvas. My son and I are riding our bicycles in front of our house. The … Continue reading →

]]>It’s a gorgeous evening in Spring. What is it about these sun rays that are filtering through the trees? They turn everything into one magnificent canvas. My son and I are riding our bicycles in front of our house. The smell of fresh mulch is in the air. I am glad that my son hasn’t noticed that I am not wearing my helmet. Otherwise he would make me wear it and today I need the breeze in my hair. He is wearing his helmet, knee-pads, the whole attire. A block down the road, a neighbor is mowing the lawn and its constant whir is in the background.

As we zoom down the gray road, I see an old man out for his evening walk. He sees us and pretends to run very fast to the side of the road and ducks. Then he makes a victory sign to tell us that he is safe and saved from our hurtling bicycles. I laugh hard and toss my hand in the air. My son, quite oblivious to all this, keeps pedaling furiously. On our next round, I stop and chat with the old man. I take a long, happy breath. This is such a good neighborhood.

We are circling, going up and down the slope. I ask my son to stop and look. There is a car approaching us. “There’s a car coming. What do you do?” I ask with a slight authority in my tone. “Panic!! Aaaargh!” he says with a sly look on his face. Oh well. It is hard to get one straight answer from him. He is such a rebel. I can’t help but smile. His constant attempt to try to be funny is adorable. Something tells me he will do fine.

We are still circling. Now I have lost the count of the number of rounds. The sound of the lawn mower is fading. Sometimes I am racing with him. He likes the races. Most of the time though, I am behind him, enjoying the ride. The oak trees are hovering over us, watching intently. The white dogwoods are in bloom. His face is lit up in the warm glow of the dusk. If I could take this moment and put it away in a small bottle…its essence would replenish my soul for a lifetime. I am a part of that canvas, yet wondering how the painting would be completed.

The wind is flowing harder now and I can see the pink petals of cherry trees scattered all over the road. Ah, the cherry blossom is over. My legs want to stop pedaling. “One more round!” my son shouts. “Yes!”. I will keep going…for a little while. The road is changing and curving. Finally, I stop in front of our home. It’s time to go. My son is ahead of me, he hasn’t stopped. All this while, I was cycling with him but I will let him finish this last part by himself. I keep my bicycle in the garage and sit on the steps. My eyes wander to the maple tree that is in the middle of our front yard. It is standing taller than usual, its fresh red leaves holding the promise of tomorrow.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/out-on-the-road-an-evening-in-spring/feed5Happy birthday…to me!http://purpletwirls.com/blog/happy-birthday-to-me
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/happy-birthday-to-me#commentsMon, 17 Mar 2014 15:36:56 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=2986It’s getting closer. The countdown is on. No, I am not talking about the arrival of Spring. Although after surviving the crazy polar vortex, it’s not too much to ask for an early sprinkle of Spring weather and some beautiful … Continue reading →

]]>It’s getting closer. The countdown is on. No, I am not talking about the arrival of Spring. Although after surviving the crazy polar vortex, it’s not too much to ask for an early sprinkle of Spring weather and some beautiful blossoms. My friends in this part of the world would agree wholeheartedly. But I digress. I was talking about my upcoming birthday – the one that’s going to push me further into the “wiser” side of 30s. The one that doesn’t quite feel blossom-y. And yet, owing to the increasing maximum lifespan numbers, I am apparently not yet eligible for throwing a solid mid-life crisis tantrum. Because you know, 40s is the new 20s or some such silly thing. So then, what is one supposed to do on this lazy morning, on the verge of one’s more-than-35-less-than-40th birthday? Introspect? Eh, that’s too boring.

So here’s what I did. I called my mom and told her that I wasn’t exactly sensing an oomph to my birthday and that maybe I was finally starting to get old. The good mother that she is, she rolled her sleeves, and started chopping off my oomph-lessness and general lack of interest towards my own birthday. Then of course she dove into a series of stories about how awesome I was at that very moment and how awesome I have been since I was an energetic fetus. Ah, parents! You are tempted to believe them but you just can’t believe them completely…you know, on principles. Not only did she do her you-are-awesome monologue, she also kept hinting that maybe I should instead focus my attention on important things like buying a nice dress and some jewelry to wear on my birthday. Well, now that’s a thought. I do look good in a nice dress and some accessories. But what about other things – like what I am doing in this circle of life…including how I am as a parent, as a companion to my husband, where I am in my profession, what the next decades might present, my fitness, my hobbies? What about my secret superwoman desire to use disruptive technologies…you know, to disrupt things!

Me, my, mine…yes, my world revolves around me. My basic philosophy (again for myself) is that I can only start with me and keep doing things that help me. I can only try to answer the question “would I regret doing (or not doing) something?”. I can only stand up and say NO to any frustrations, pains, judgments that come my way. I can only make a statement “Yes, I want it all.” I want the things, the people, the ideas that nourish me. If good things don’t come my way, you probably won’t hear a peep out of me, but inherently I do not want to start with compromising on life. There, I said it. What I have noticed though is that after I reach a certain point of control, self-esteem, happiness…whatever you want to call it, things automatically end up happening to allow the growth and well-being of others around me. So there is that added bonus. But yeah, it is a self-centric view at the core of it and it works for me.

With that in mind, I also don’t think I have a bucket list. Or rather I have an empty bucket list. I have been loved, I have loved, I have also hunted down the people who deserved to hear my ‘sorry’. I have grabbed some opportunities and I have survived some blows. How would it have been if I had made different choices? Well, it simply would have been a different life. Would it have been better or worse? I am going to say that that is non-deterministic and while it could be a fun exercise to guess, it doesn’t really matter to ME. The only thing that matters is I do my best, every single day – including the times when the best I can do is simply pause and take a deep breath.

As these thoughts are floating and I am vaguely wondering if I am thinking despite deciding to not to, I hear my son and husband talking in soft voices behind a laptop. I am pretty sure I just heard the words ‘cake’ and ‘go to amazon.com’. Ah, a celebration complete with cake and a gift! That’s enough to get me out of my pre-birthday musings. I can already see my husband’s smile when my son will proudly give me the gift and tell me how he selected and bought it all by himself. I will bask in the glory of the awesomeness of that moment…and then life will go on. Another day will happen, which of course won’t be my birthday and then yet another one. But for now, it looks like it is – Happy birthday to me!

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/happy-birthday-to-me/feed2Elton John: The Sun that Rolled High through the Sapphire Skyhttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/elton-john-sun-rolled-high-sapphire-sky
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/elton-john-sun-rolled-high-sapphire-sky#commentsSun, 17 Nov 2013 02:21:37 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=2927Fifteen years ago, the legend called Sir Elton John was going to visit a city near our campus. We were all excited and started discussing how we would get there and to the concert. Given our official ‘poor student’ status, … Continue reading →

]]>Fifteen years ago, the legend called Sir Elton John was going to visit a city near our campus. We were all excited and started discussing how we would get there and to the concert. Given our official ‘poor student’ status, that would have meant shelling out quite a bit of money but this was a show that could not be missed. As it turned out, our plans stayed just plans. But fast forward fifteen years…and Elton John came to town again. This time it was a different place, a different decade, a different set of friends, but the same excitement was in the air as our plans became a reality and we were off to the concert.

The moment Elton John entered the stage there was an outburst of applause. My first thought was that he looked old. At the age of 66, he was indeed old and I guess he just looked his age. Within the next three minutes though, the Elton John fingers were making magic on the piano and any illusion of “old” quickly went out the door. This dude sang for three and half hours non-stop throwing one song after another as if he was handing out candies on a busy Halloween night.

The songs that had played for years, first on a CD player in my house and then on my phone had become alive and brought their creator with them. As he sang Your Song, the words “My gift is my song and this one’s for you” filled the auditorium. In that moment, all the stories that one hears about the celebrity that he is, all his eccentricities, his fashion and other details of his personal life collapsed into one reality – he was the master who had owned his songs and served for over 40 years. He was the one who had started drenching our souls even before we knew, even before we were born.

As the night progressed, the songs kept coming. At one point, he jumped on his piano, then made a successful landing down and continued to hit the keys and pound our hearts. After every song was over and the final key had been hit, he would get on his feet, throw his shoulders back and extend both the arms to the audience as if to say “folks, what do you have to say to this?”. The audience would respond by clapping, cheering and throwing their arms towards him. It was both a salute and a hug for the maestro.

Finally, he sang one of my favorites - Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me. That was followed by us echoing him with our ‘la la la la la’ on Crocodile Rock. And soon there were no more songs. We realized that he had not sung Circle of Life. As he started leaving the stage, I joined a few people who had started a weak chorus of ‘circle, circle’ to make our wish clear. But he was gone. That night, he himself was the sun that rolled high through our sapphire sky and bound us permanently to the circle of life.

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/elton-john-sun-rolled-high-sapphire-sky/feed0Doing one different thing a day (Week # 1)http://purpletwirls.com/blog/doing-one-different-thing-a-day-week-1
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/doing-one-different-thing-a-day-week-1#commentsSat, 26 Oct 2013 18:36:05 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=2853It had been raining for a week. Not the romantic “let’s hold hands and dance” kind of rain, but “the government is shut down, might as well make everything gloomy” kind of rain. After one really long week, the sun … Continue reading →

]]>It had been raining for a week. Not the romantic “let’s hold hands and dance” kind of rain, but “the government is shut down, might as well make everything gloomy” kind of rain. After one really long week, the sun came out and shone brightly through the Fall colors. In that happy moment, I decided to launch a small project that I had been thinking about for a while. I am calling the project ‘Doing one different thing – a day’.

Now these different “things” have to be only somewhat different, not drastically different. That is, we are not talking about running off to Rome, bungee-jumping or eating exotic meals. These are not your bucket list items nor your new year resolutions. The idea is to Think small. Act casual. Keep it manageable. Give the routine a small twirl without struggling a lot. It has to be something you have never done before or not done in a long time, and it has to be intentional. So let’s say tomorrow 30 strands of my hair suddenly turn gray (argh!) then that does not count as a different “thing” because that was oh-so-not-planned-for. Each thing in itself may not seem that great, but together they are awesome if one can do this over a period of time. Just coming up with different things to do is fun (and challenging as I soon realized), and the randomness of it fulfilling in a subtle way. So without further ado, this is how my week #1 looked like:

Day #1: Played basketball with my son. It was a long day at work, but I let the evening chores wait and went outside to play (I typically never do this). My son scored more baskets than I did :-) but it was a great start to my project.

Day #2: Tried the “crazy” push-ups. In my excitement, I told my gym instructor all about the project and said that I was thinking of doing more number of push-ups than my usual ‘dropping-dead-in-3′ limit. Well, she got all excited and told me to do the crazy (she called them “intermediate”) push-ups, where one leg is hanging in the air, and then hands are on a wobbly ball and all that. So I did.

Day #3: Wrote a letter to mom in my native language. This was so much fun. I wrote it in old-style marathi and even though the words flowed easily, I struggled a little with the script syntax. The letter is mailed and will be a surprise for mom.

Day #4 : Tried to bend a spoon. Okay, don’t laugh! Didn’t succeed in bending the spoon, but I gave it a good shot. Remember the scene from The Matrix? Totally like that. And then I felt so relaxed after staring at the spoon for 5 minutes that I closed my eyes, let my head plop instead of the spoon’s and took a small nap. Totally worth trying this thing, I am telling ya!

Day #5 : Attended a Krav Maga class. Went for a trial introductory class of Krav Maga (the Israeli self-defense technique). This was a total opposite of the spoon-bending experience for I was very awake and ready to go ‘punch-punch-kick-kick’ after the class.

Day #6: Picked up the phone and called an old friend. This one was a no-brainer. It was great catching up with an old friend and he recalled that we were probably talking after a gap of 3 years.

That’s it for now, people. I am not sure how long the experiment will continue, but it’s been good so far. If you want to try it out, go for it and remember to consult me if you need ideas for things to do. First 3 ideas are totally free and then there will be a small fee after that. After all, in the spirit of this game, I would like to earn lots of money from my friends and that will be the one different thing I would be doing that day. :-)

EDIT: I did this for 30 days, every single day. It was hard and I got quite a kick out of it. A friend who read this blog told me later that she thinks of me and tries a new thing every time she feels old. I am finally associated with old age or trying new things or something like that. Yay!

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/doing-one-different-thing-a-day-week-1/feed2Take the Time to be Grateful Or Talk Like a Pirate?http://purpletwirls.com/blog/take-the-time-to-be-grateful-or-talk-like-a-pirate
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/take-the-time-to-be-grateful-or-talk-like-a-pirate#commentsSun, 29 Sep 2013 17:12:04 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=2753Today is September 21, World Gratitude Day (well, it was when I started writing this post, so go with me here). Two days back, it was Talk Like a Pirate Day. I am not making this up (check it out). So days … Continue reading →

]]>Today is September 21, World Gratitude Day (well, it was when I started writing this post, so go with me here). Two days back, it was Talk Like a Pirate Day. I am not making this up (check it out). So days come and go, but what I found amusing was this – in any given year, the probability of me talking like a pirate would be higher than me taking the time to express gratitude. That is true. Plus there is the whole ‘it is what it is’ argument, which goes something like this – the reason I am even thinking of gratitude is because the human brain (my brain) has evolved to a point where it can do so. So then why does one have to take the time to be grateful? But here’s the thing – once you try to be definitive in that smart-a$$y way, the mind plays tricks and challenges you. It challenged me to write my very own gratitude list, and so here we are. I am going to keep the list short, but I am going to start every item with “I am grateful to…”. This is like deciding to do a 3-miler on the treadmill on the first day in the gym and then sneaking in that incline. But let’s do it. Aye, aye!

I am grateful to my family and my school that I had a no-pressure childhood and had the freedom to pretty much do what I wanted to do. (Mom – if you are reading this, the list is in no particular order!)

I am grateful to my wonderful spouse that my childhood trend continued to flourish in my adulthood and I generally get to do what I want to do. :-)

I am grateful to my son for the hugs & kisses he showers on me, and also for the little things he does to melt my skeptical heart. Topping that list is the Mother’s Day book in which he wrote things like “my mom is pretty as a peacock” and “my mom likes to eat rice” (I am and I do!).

I am grateful to my old friends for they let me rediscover old friendships. Plus how cool it is to be able to say things like “Come on, we have known each other for 20 years, you can tell me ALL your secrets!”. I am grateful to my new friends for they tell me that there is always more to explore and that fun is a never-ending phenomenon. Yay!

I am grateful to people and situations who took care of me, tried to take care of me, or ever thought of taking care of me.

I am grateful to the woman, who years back, while visiting our house to offer condolences, had casually stated that there was too much luxury in the house but lack of that one person (who had passed away). As much as her remarks would hurt me for years, during that time, she and several others were faces of the real, harsh world that lies hand in hand with all the rainbows and fairy tales, and I am grateful for that.

I am grateful to people who have dazzled my world with their genius, their creativity and their humility. They tell me how to weave science & technology with this thing called Life, how to dream once in a while and how to spread magic.

I am grateful to my body for it figures out how to recover and build enough strength so I can dance on. (P.S. it would be very neat if it continues to do that even as I dive into the more arthritic age ranges.)

I am grateful to nature for it gives me a sense of rhythm. I am grateful that there is a sunrise and a sunset every day (Given that I am not an early-riser, I have hardly witnessed the sunrise part of this equation, but I am willing to go with this popular belief). That, and the leaves changing their colors, winter’s biting cold, followed by spring’s blossoms. Nature gives me stability and joy in a changing and challenging world.

Finally, I am grateful to – no one in particular – but grateful that I took the time to write this blog post.

That’s it for now, people. I am not sure if this exercise has been helpful but it does feel more adventurous than trying to talk like a pirate. :-) Also funnily enough, as I write this, the list seems more like a eulogy I would write for my world – something that could be read on the day the world ends (or the day I leave this world, however you want to look at it). So I guess it’s not too out of line to say “Thank you world, we have been good together!”

]]>http://purpletwirls.com/blog/take-the-time-to-be-grateful-or-talk-like-a-pirate/feed7Here lies happiness…and a pair of high heelshttp://purpletwirls.com/blog/here-lies-happiness-and-a-pair-of-high-heels
http://purpletwirls.com/blog/here-lies-happiness-and-a-pair-of-high-heels#commentsFri, 30 Aug 2013 00:57:58 +0000http://purpletwirls.com/blog/?p=2664“Happiness is a choice”, “What’s more important than happiness?”, “I want my kids to be happy”…these and other such themes were floating quite a bit. Floating where, you ask? Well, floating in conversations, on blogs, on Facebook and even on … Continue reading →

]]>“Happiness is a choice”, “What’s more important than happiness?”, “I want my kids to be happy”…these and other such themes were floating quite a bit. Floating where, you ask? Well, floating in conversations, on blogs, on Facebook and even on some bucket-lists I came across. You know how word clouds can be created out of some text? The word ‘happiness’ started popping out a lot on my social word cloud, and prompted me to…be happy. Nah, who am I kidding? :-) It prompted me to write this post and throw in some of my own nuggets about this phenomenon –

Happiness is not the opposite of sadness. Just because you are not sad does not mean you will be happy or that you need to be. Life pulls out a lot of different situations from its hat and you have a chance to respond to them in many ways. You can be amused or calm or scared or depressed or a thousand other flavors. Why not? So with that, hopefully the pressure to be happy-happy is somewhat off. Phew! If you have however decided that happiness is a priority for you, and you are going to be investing your time and energy in it, then you might as well first ask the question ‘What does happiness mean for me?’. Hopefully you can find yourself a nice little definition, and if you are feeling bold enough, you can even renew the definition as times goes by. Once you work your way towards happiness though, it’s a pretty sweet deal if you can actually carry it off. You know, how if I am buying a pair of red, hot high heels, then I better know how to walk in them and look good in them? Just like that. So, are you able to rock happiness?

Finally, happiness comes in grades and shades, just like the high heels go from an inch-tall to something that would make those skilled stilt-walkers drop their jaw in awe. So you can choose to be mildly happy, sometimes happy, or happy-all-the way! Take your pick and cultivate it only that much. The logic is simple: why work so hard to be super happy if being mildly happy makes you happy? Or something like that. :-)

Now that I have talked much and am feeling adequately wise (and snooty), let me tell you how I feel about my happiness. Well, in short, I feel done with happiness. Never chased it, never will, just like I will probably never love those high heels. Of course even when plenty of medical studies and articles have published exactly how high heels are not good for the feet, they remain to be very appealing and an easy sell. And I get why. But for that same reason, I will gladly bury this thing called happiness, throw in some high heels while at it, cover them both with a small pile of sand and put a little flag that says “Here lies happiness …and a pair of high heels. They both were very red and hot.”.

While I am going on, I should mention that I do think there is a more tangible concept that I like. It’s called ‘well-being’. If someone asks me “Are you happy?”, I might respond with a blank stare and a vague “Umm, what now?”. But if someone asks me “Are you well?”, I can say “Yes, I am well, thank you. How about you?” and the conversation will proceed. On the flip side of it, let’s say I am with a bunch of people randomly selected for a chit-chat. Then by the statistics known to us, the prominent emotional state of at least one of us is likely ‘Depressed’. Should the stats be like that? That’s hardly the question. The question is – can I really look in the eyes of that person, say ‘Happiness is a choice’ and leave it at that? It’s hard, very hard.

So while the quest of happiness seems like a never-ending play, well-being is simply being well and letting happiness happen (if at all it decides to take a form and wander in my territory). I don’t know if there is a convincing rationale for seeking happiness other than it is a personal preference or that it’s a popular choice. Well-being requires no rationale. You might as well live well…you know, because you are alive. Depending on who you are, well-being can mean a lot of different things: eating well, staying fit, working hard on a project or a hobby you love, dabbling in something creative, growing something with your hands, spending time with people who care for you, asking for help and surviving the down-times, helping someone, teaching something to a kid and also learning from her, dreaming a little, crying a little, gossiping a little (or a lot!), worrying about something a little, sometimes thinking about the vastness that surrounds you, sometimes looking at the chaos that engulfs you, letting go of your fear if only for a few minutes, stepping out of your comfort zone even if only slightly, being aware of what you have even though you might not feel grateful all the time, smiling once in a while…and the list goes on.

So if you feel ready, go ahead and bury that happiness and put a little flag. The funny thing though is that when you do that, something out there stirs as if you have just given it a slap. The forces of universe then conspire and come knocking on your door as if to say “Hey, we heard you buried those high heels and that’s cool, but how about trying these ones for fun? It’s a gift from us, no strings attached!” If that happened to me, I would totally laugh and accept the gift. And while I am wearing those high heels, I would also put on a perfect red dress, and oh, some lipstick and mascara! Looking good! Then of course, I would find myself a nice, open dance floor and try a few simple steps of cha cha. Two-three-cha-cha-cha! Looking goooood! Now at this point, it doesn’t matter a whole lot if I keep the high heels on or throw them away…because guess what, the party is on! And we are going to dance away like there is no tomorrow — Two-three-cha-cha-cha!